The Old Road's Daughter
by TiredLurker
Summary: You were lied to. All the stories you grew up with are part of one great epic. This is that story, the story of the prodigal queen Snow White and her quest to reclaim her kingdom and save the world from an ancient evil. Appearances by most Disney characters, but they may not be like you think.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

(A/N: So this is my first fic, and I'm hoping somebody reads this and enjoys this. I don't want to have to be defensive before I even show you my work, but I promise this_**is**___indeed a Disney fic with absolutely no OCs. If you are confused, feel free to contact me, and if it seems a character isn't acting the way he or she should be, I promise it will all make sense eventually. Please R&R. I'd love to see what anybody thinks. All the original characters and some plot points come from Disney.)

The Old Road's Daughter

Epigram

"Lack imagination and miss the better story."—Yann Martel

Prologue

Listen. I urge you. This is too important for you to write off as something a poor girl made up as a ploy for fame and attention. This is no such tripe. This is a story, a proper story with real people in it. As such, you won't find many heroes or villains, and that will make things a lot more complicated. But if you keep your eyes and ears open, the tale I'm about to introduce you to will show you truth of a sort you haven't seen before, the kind of truth that's been replaced by jokes and tired parodies. For the gist of this story isn't particularly about a battle between good and evil. It's not about the triumph of the heart. It's certainly not about true love. No, it's about all of that together and how everything centers on something greater. All the good stories do that, and for the love of me, I hope this is one of them.

I am not the protagonist of this particular story, but as the girl who is was never particularly fond of self-promotion, I have taken it upon myself to scribe the story of her life. Over time, it has been bowdlerized, caricatured, and dumbed-down to the point where many characters have been exaggerated, prettified or changed in the name of "comic relief" or "dramatic license", and many stories have lost their original contexts. But this story is much better than all this. This story is real.

It begins as you know it to. A kingdom sits nestled in a forested valley, home to several quaint towns and a few bustling cities. It is rich in natural resources, and its people have an earthy, resilient spirit. It is called Schonheit, for all who pass through it are haunted by its abundant beauty. It is ruled by a king, his wife long dead, who has one daughter whom he loves very dearly. She is what everyone expects a princess to be: pure, kind, graceful, and more beautiful than all the legendary maidens of the past. She becomes the symbol of her kingdom's peace and prosperity—her people love her, almost deify her for eighteen years. And then the war comes, and this portrait I've just painted is shredded to a thousand ribbons.

Schonheit had always been a peaceful nation, quick to give aid to any other state in need. Its location in the Silverspire Mountains also made it incredibly hard to access; thus, no other country had ever really bothered it. But this was also as much a curse as it was a blessing, for as the people of Schonheit maintained their blissful lifestyles, the rest of the world grew in wisdom and culture. Other states began to rise up and seek out resources, power, and sovereignty by conquest. And no other nation did this better than Minuit. Under the leadership of King Frederick V, Minuit's borders stretched across the entire western half of the continent, from the Atlantean Sea in the west to the Silverspire Mountains in the east. It wasn't long before it turned its eye on Schonheit. Ill-prepared for the Minuit invasion, Schonheit was forced to its knees within months. As a last act of desperation, the king sent an emissary to the secretive, mystic nation of Wahrheit for aid, and the two kings quickly hashed out a deal.

A few nights later, three women rode into the Minuit camp. They presented themselves as messengers from the kings of Wahrheit and Schonheit come to deliver terms of surrender. No one (least of all I) knows what happened that night, but the next morning all that remained of the Minuit army was a few terrified stragglers, screaming something about black magic and damnation. Though a few Schonheiters were disturbed by the news, it seemed the war had been won.

In the years that followed, Minuit put its tail between its legs and slunk back into its borders. King Frederick didn't bother anyone for a long time. Schonheit and Wahrheit retained their relationship, and in an act of ultimate alliance the king of Schonheit married the Wahrheiter king's sister. A regal, cold woman, she was immediately distrusted by most of Schonheit's populace, and the death of the king at the hands of a Minuit assassin a few months later brought out several rumors of the queen dabbling in subterfuge, treason, and even sorcery. It is on that night that I begin my true narrative. It is on that night that my life changed forever.

Chapter 1

Incite

My father always called it "The Golden Hour," that time just before sunset. He often said that right then everything was truly at peace, that even soldiers would lay down their swords and marvel at the serenity around them: the sparkling lakes, the dancing trees, the rich yellow light caressing the grass. This moment has always been sacred to me, for it not only fills my heart with peace, but with memories of love and happiness, the simple joy of being of alive, and the desire to set off on the road once more.

In my younger days this hour fell just after my father, sisters, and I would return from the mines, our faces dirty and our minds clouded. We'd reach the doorstep of our small house, the savory smells of Mother's cooking and piney smell of the timber rejuvenating us enough to sit in the den and talk for a while. These were never mindless conversations, for my father had no tolerance for idle chatter. He would speak to us of the world, the various men and women who had shaped it, the many strange forces and creatures that moved within it. My sisters would ask questions and engage my father in debates of ethics or philosophy, but I never really had a need to. I simply listened, and that's what I was doing that evening.

We sat down in a circle like we always did, my father in his massive armchair, me and Goneril on the sofa to his right, and Lauga in the loveseat. Her husband Cuchulainn had managed enough strength to get out of bed and join us that night. He sat next to his wife with his infant daughter on his lap, hacking into his sleeve every now and then, pretending that his Miner's Cough wasn't as bad as it actually was. Lauga rested her head on his shoulder and tried very hard not to fall asleep. Father cleared his throat, and we all heeded him. He gazed upon us and stroked his beard, a strange sadness coming into his eyes before he finally spoke.

"I don't reckon I've told you the story of our people as yet," he said plaintively. I locked eyes with my sisters and realized he was right. "Strange thing that I haven't. It's an important story, and it's one you're all mighty ready to hear. It's a real sad one, though. Real sad…" He trailed off, and for a moment he looked much older than his jolly visage usually let on.

"Well…go on." Goneril's interjection jolted him out of his musings. He slowly turned his gaze to her, meeting her steely grey eyes with a calm resolve.

"Be patient with me, Goneril. This one's hard for me to tell." She nodded, her face emotionless, and he began his tale.

"Long ago, the dwarves were one of the four Great Races. The gods gave them dominion over the earth, and they grew rich with its bounty. Dwarven kings and queens came to power and built great cities and palaces all throughout the Underways. These rulers were wise and good—"

"We've talked about this, Dad. It's impossible for anyone to be _completely_wise and good."

"Oh, shut up, Goneril," Lauga murmured. Her eyelids drooped. She was falling asleep even faster than usual tonight. "Just let Dad tell the story." She nuzzled further into Cuchulainn's shoulder, who coughed at the sudden impact. Father continued, polishing his glasses.

"They were as wise and good as any person could possibly be, and during the time of their rule, not a single war was recorded in the Grand Annals. As they lived and traded in peace, so did the other three races with them. All that changed when the gods created humanity."

Goneril snorted. Father stopped short and looked at her.

"What's the matter, dear?"

She peered back at him. "A lot. I'm not sure I believe this. You're saying that we were once a great civilization, that we were also really, really cultured, and that humans are the reason that's all done and over with now? That doesn't make sense. There's no way dwarves could have ever done something that…big, and just look at us! We live in a ramshackle cottage in the middle of the woods, spending our lives holed up in caves so we can afford to survive. How do you go from 'great civilization' to this? And why would humans even bother us? To them, we are little more than animals. You're sick in the head, Dad."

I mentally slapped my forehead as she said that. Lauga visibly awakened, Cuchulainn was trying to make himself very small, and even baby Kitta looked uneasy. Father looked as if he had just been slapped in the face. A singular tear popped its head out of his eye and trickled very slowly down his beard. No one spoke until Cuchulainn coughed extremely loudly.

"This is why the story is sad, Goneril," Father almost whispered. "Because you—because we all have forgotten." He got out of his chair and left without a word, leaving us behind to sit in silence. A few seconds later my mother sauntered in.

"Dinner!" she sang, beaming as she carried a stack of plates. She took one look at us and stopped short. "What's happened? Where's your father?" Everyone, even Kitta, stared at Goneril. Mother set her plates down on an endtable and sighed. "Why, Goneril? Why must you do this to him?" My sister crossed her arms and scowled. I scooted away from her as mother bustled out and called up the stairs for father.

"Nice going, Sister Dear," Lauga crooned. "He'll be shutting himself up in his room until dessert now."

"He'll be fine," Goneril retorted. She continued to glower.

"Still," Cuchulainn interjected, "that was rude, Goneril. You've hurt him very deeply."

"I hurt everyone, Numbskull. What makes him any different?" We shared another few moments of tense quiet until I got up and retrieved the stack of plates.

"Great idea, Sigrun," Cuchulainn said, lifting Kitta off his lap and heading for the kitchen. "Come on, everyone. Let's finish getting dinner ready. Freya will be really happy to see we helped out." He hacked a tremendous hack just then, and Lauga stopped him short.

"Oh, no you don't, Darling," she laughed, placing a hand on his chest. "You're not going to go anywhere near the dishes. We can't have you coughing and sneezing and dripping snot all over them. Who wants that? Don't worry. We girls will take care of it." She kissed his cheek lightly, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Well, thanks, Honey. You're almost making me feel okay with being a lazy slob all day."

"A _sick_, lazy slob all day. And it's my job. I'm your wife." She grabbed the stack of dishes from me and marched off. "Come on, Goneril. Stop sulking and help me, please." She headed into the kitchen, and Goneril soon followed after, rolling up her sleeves and muttering to herself. I turned to go as well, but Cuchulainn grabbed my shoulder.

"Is something wrong, Sigrun?" I stared at him. "I mean, you seem even more quiet than usual today. What's up?"

"I don't know," I said to him. "Is there a reason to feel bad?" I stretched my hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling any worse today, Cuch?"

He shoved me off and held my shoulders, looking me seriously in the eye. "No, no, no. Stop that. Don't distract me. Something's bothering you. Speak up. Tell me or I'll…I'll ask Goneril what she thinks about the king's politics at dinner."

I gasped. "You wouldn't."

"You know I—" He burst into laughter, and I joined him. "Nah, that'd be horrible for all of us. But seriously. You can trust me, Sigrun."

"I know I can, but it's just…I don't know, weird."

"How weird?"

"Like…spiritual weird."

He turned his head to the side and stroked Kitta's forehead. "Go on."

"I don't know how to. I just have this weird feeling that something…grand is in the air tonight. Something important and crazy and new and a little scary…"

"So it's a bad feeling?"

"No, just scary. They're not the same, silly."

He chuckled. "I suppose not. Huh. You know something, Sigrun? I'll take your word for it."

"What?"

"Yeah. I don't know why. Any other day, I'd say you were crazy, but I'm kind of picking up what you're putting down."

"Really?" He nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Cuch. You've been a very great friend to me. I don't know how I'd survive everyone else without you around."

"Well, what do you know?" he chortled. "I'm good for something after all." An explosive _pffft_echoed through the room. It was shortly followed by an almighty smell. "And now I'm off to do the other thing I'm good at." He left for the washroom, holding Kitta very far away from his body.

When he was gone I started for the kitchen and stopped suddenly. I don't know why to this day, but for some reason I felt a very strong urge to go outside. I did just that, closing the door behind me softly so no one would notice my absence. I wandered down the path from the cottage, running my fingers along the bark of the trees and staring up at the swirls of burnt orange and lavender up above me. I stopped at the base of the last tree before the road and looked in front of me.

To the left lay the mines and the cottages of the other dwarf families; to the right, the village where we would sell our diamonds. It occurred to me then that I had never gone straight. Father said that the way straight through the woods would lead past the king's palace, into the Silverspire foothills and the rolling plains of Minuit and finally the sea. I had always wondered what the sea looked like. I stepped forward without thinking and then stopped myself.

_Really?_I thought. _Leave now?_I liked the sound of it in my head. Goneril would have left in a rage and probably broken something. Lauga would have made sure all the loose ends were tied up and kissed each of us on the forehead. But this way suited me. People would just shake their heads as they talked about Silent Sigrun, leaving before dinner without a word and never coming back.

I didn't understand why these thoughts were coming to me. I enjoyed my life with my family and my job. Well, not so much my job, but the mountains were peaceful, comforting and frankly awe-inspiring. But perhaps Father's words had stirred up something in me. The idea that I had once been part of something great had shaken my soul to its very core. I had a sudden desire to run into the dusk, to run as far as I could and not stop until I knew who I was, learned the fullness of what I could become.

So I did it. I put all my thoughts on hold, threw my braids behind my shoulders, and ran as fast as I possibly could. I closed my eyes and savored the sweet song of the wind in my ears. I threw my head back and laughed loud and long, like Mother or Goneril (but certainly not me). And then I bumped into a solid mass and collapsed on top of it with a very pronounced _oomph_.

I opened my eyes and looked directly into the wide eyes of a woman a few years older than me. There was blood all over her face. I didn't have much time to take many other details, though, because she abruptly shoved me off her as easily as a horse can shake off a fly. She immediately bolted off to her right, muttering curses. In the distance I heard the thunderous sound of hooves, and suddenly I was out of time and place, no longer a girl but a spirit outside her, watching with quiet disregard as horseman after horseman poured from the treeline, brushing past this dwarfmaid as she stood, stoic as a scaffold, and waited to be real again.

I was brought back to my skin when a horse reared in front of me. I jumped aside as its hooves came down and its rider patted its mane and whispered gentle words to it. As the world came back into focus, I realized I knew the man on the horse. He turned to face me.

"What are you doing? You could have been killed! Go home, girl!" He paused for a second, and the warrior in his eyes slowly sheathed its sword. "Hold a second. Are you…Domnall's girl?" I nodded. "Are you the youngest? No, you're the middle one. Sigrun, right?" I smiled at him. "Sigrun. My, how you've grown. You remember me, right?"

"Yes, Humbert. I most certainly do."

"Good, good. It's been so long. Shame, really, that I can't stop in and see your father. How's Old Doc doing?"

"He isn't dead yet."

"Well, that's all any of us can ask for, I suppose." His face became fierce once more. "I can't talk, Sigrun. I'm looking for a woman in black. She's probably covered in blood."

"Oh, her? I just bumped into her a few moments ago."

"Which way did she go, Sigrun?" I didn't respond. "That woman killed the king last night. We need to find her. You have to try to remember."

I don't know why I did it. Perhaps I knew from the initial meeting that this woman was important and couldn't meet her end here. Perhaps I had a hunch that there was more to what was going on than Humbert or the assassin or I could fathom. Or perhaps I only wanted to entangle myself in a drama greater than myself. I said, "Toward the village," and pointed off to my right.

Humbert nodded his thanks and signaled his men to veer left. As the last of them thundered away, I made my way as quickly as I could down the road to the mines. I saw a black shape up ahead of me and silently thanked the gods. I ran faster and faster, and because the woman had been running for an entire day I caught up to her and touched her on the shoulder.

"Wait!" I called. "It's all right! They've gone the other way!" She shrugged me off.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

"No, I'm serious! I told them to go the opposite direction. You're safe! I promise!"

She stopped and looked at me suspiciously. She took a look around and listened for a beat before letting out a huge breath. "No horses. No shouting. Well, what do you know?" She sat down on a nearby rock, throwing her head back and taking in glorious gasps of air. I got my first really good look at her then. Even if her face hadn't been splattered brown and red, she wouldn't have been particularly pretty. She had a weak chin and a broad nose, and her hair fell about her face in ridiculous little ringlets that reminded me of little piggy tails. She was dressed in black: tunic, leggings, belt, cloak, boots, everything, and she wore a dagger on her waist. As the sun cast its final shadows over her, I noticed certain metallic shimmers on other parts of her body and took a step back. I was no match for someone with that many concealed weapons. This woman knew what she was doing.

She noticed me and laughed. "Scared? Don't be. I'm in no place to kill anyone right now. I can't even walk straight." She peeled her boots off and wiggled her toes in the air. "Damn but that feels good! I don't know how you Schonheiters wear these…rags. They don't breathe one bit." She turned to me for a response. I didn't give her one. "Wow, a female dwarf. I've never seen one before. You know, I didn't even know dwarf women existed. The only ones we ever see in Minuit are old men." I laughed to myself as her frustration mounted. Keeping your mouth shut can sometimes be so incredibly funny. "So… where am I?" I shot her a quizzical look. "Okay, Miss High-and-Mighty, I know I'm in the Greatwood. Which mountain is this over here?"

"Mount Wodin."

"Really? Then I've made it further than I thought. Let's see, the sun is setting that way, so I'm going north, which means I need to head here to the right…"

"Hold a second. You're going east?"

"Well, of course, I'm going west. Everyone who can hold a pitchfork or a torch is tearing apart the forest to the west right about now, all looking for me. I most certainly can't head that way."

"You can't head east either. You'll be heading right up Mount Fenris, and that's the tallest of all the Silverspires. No human's ever been past it before."

"Sorry, little lady. I need to get to the Free Realms in the next few days or so, and they happen to be east, so I'm going up that mountain. Believe me when I say I've done much worse in my time, and—wait. Did you say 'no human?'"

"Um…yes."

"So you dwarves can get past that thing?"

"Some have, yes. But that's only the crazies."

"The crazies?"

"The dwarves who give up the Earth and seek their way in the Free Realms. They never come back, so most people say there's something on the other side of the mountain that makes them go crazy."

"Hmph. Well, _that's_crazy. They probably don't come back because the rest of the world is way better than this dump." She kicked the rock and immediately shouted in pain, rubbing a popped blister on her heel.

I sighed, "You don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"What it means."

"What what means?"

"Living like this. I don't think you humans ever can."

She gave me a hard stare as she put her boots back on. Finally she quipped, "It's because you never give any of us a chance to." She stood up and cracked her knuckles. "But no matter. I need to move on. Thank you for helping me, Dwarfmaid." She paused for a second. "Say, why did you help me?"

I laughed softly. "I don't know."

"Wait, seriously? Just so you know, I killed your king. I'm an enemy of your state"

"You're not my enemy." She looked at me and smiled. She had a very pretty smile. I continued, "My dad said something once about an old mineshaft at the base of Mount Fenris. Goes right through the mountain. It's supposed to be overrun by goblins now, very dangerous stuff, but if someone were to carry lots of little stilettos on her, per se, she'd make it to the Free Realms just fine."

Her smile widened. "Would she? Well, that's a pretty piece of news. How far?"

"Keep going this way and turn right when you get to the fork in the road. You'll see the shaft about two miles down that fork."

"My thanks, Dwarfmaid. You're a strange one, to be sure, but you've saved my life. If you ever find yourself in Minuit with no friend to guide you, look me up. I owe you one."

"What name should I look up?"

"My name's Drizella. Drizella Tremaine."

"I'm Sigrun. Silent Sigrun."

"Really? You talk just enough for my taste." She punched me lightly on the shoulder and headed northward. I watched her go, wondering where fate would take her. I saw a star pop up overhead. _I hope I see her again someday_, I wished.

I turned around into the night, hearing my family calling my name. What in the world was going to happen now? I had just deliberately aided and abetted Public Enemy Number One, lied to one of the King's Royal Huntsmen, and sent a woman I barely knew through one of the most dangerous places in Schonheit. Why? I couldn't find any other answer except for one phrase nagging at my thoughts, an incessant mosquito drone: _It is written_. _It is written_. As I returned to my home and my family crowded around me and asked if everything was okay and I told them about running into Humbert (but not Drizella) and told them the king was dead and they began to gossip and speculate and talk in hushed tones, that thought was really the only thing in my head. As I clambered up to my bunk above Goneril's, I should have been worried. But I wasn't. For everything was truly at peace.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Insight

By the time sunrise came, the peace had worn off. As I picked at my breakfast and grabbed my gear for the day's work, I felt an uneasiness begin to creep into me at the base of my spine. It began to seep vertebrate by vertebrate toward my skull, a bluish-blackish wave of disgust and anxiety. What in Hades was I thinking? I had betrayed Schonheit. I was going to have to face the consequences. And they would not be light.

The journey to the mine was just as bad. Every time an animal skittered through the bushes or a fellow dwarf joined us along the way, the wave surged in my skull. I saw Humbert perched behind every bush, an arrow nocked and locked on to my forehead. Luckily the others were in no mood to talk. Uncertainty was in all our minds, and uncertainty and silence are born comrades. Though my family (and my people in general) hadn't particularly cared one way or the other about the king, they did care about one thing: change. Dwarves can't stand it. To them, change is weak, like the wind or water, unable to stand its ground against stalwart tradition. They abide by codes and conducts that have persisted for centuries, held under the fastidious records of the dwarven clerics. My people take pride in these things, and when their order falters (for what does not against the hand of Fortuna?), they cling to it ever more blindly. Yes, my people would more gladly forsake their lives than forsake the hallowed Earth.

But the Earth changes as well, and it was doing that just now. The death of the king meant a new war. It meant a new ruler. It meant new. And all the dwarves on the trek to the mine were not prepared to handle that. They drudged past us like they were being pulled in an Agraban slave line, spitting whispered omens and confusions to each other. The news had spread fast, so it seemed. Every dwarf we met that day kept her head down. We all knew what lay in store, but most of all me.

The trip became more and more a miasma of alien shapes and colors, distorted by the heat waves in the distance and the torture in my own head. The stump where I had spoken with Drizella, the road which led to Mount Fenris, Lac Naurig with its shining rainbow stones: all this beautiful scenery only looked more profane this morning. Hoping to cool my head of these thoughts, I asked the foreman if I could stop by the lake and rest a bit, and since he liked me, he obliged. The others moved dejectedly onward, and I was left alone. I bent down and splashed some water on my face, watching my reflection distort and come back into focus as I did.

The black wave grew stronger and stronger as I looked at my face—force pounded against my temples, hazed my vision and finally took root in the center of my forehead. I felt my spirit float down, down into the water until there was nothing. Just dark emptiness and a few white lines moving about.

The white lines converged into a large mass at the center of my vision. A mountain, cold and harsh, nothing but rock. For reasons I did not know, I was terrified of it. I tried to turn away, but my eyes traveled ahead of me, racing faster and faster up the slope. They perceived a crevice at the summit and swooped inside. I cried out for them to stop—surely nothing good awaited down there—but still they flew downward, through fire and ash, to a dark, winged creature nestled in sleep on a slab of basalt. Finally my eyes stood still, and I beheld the beast.

It was enormous, larger than even the largest elephant. It had a powerful, sinewy naked body, and though it had no visible member, I knew immediately the creature was male. His face was contorted, hideous, with pointed ears and a mouth full of treacherous teeth, all of them incisors. But perhaps the most horrifying thing about him was his eyes, glazed over like a sleeping adder. They were a piercing yellow, with no irises or pupils. Just cruel, cold fire in those eyes.

Dread seized me the moment I cast my gaze toward them. My thoughts were lost to me, and in their place stood image after image of desolation, despair, and ultimate evil. I screamed aloud and tried in vain to shut my eyes, but the force which projected the nightmares was much too strong. I felt dark claws at my chest, prying at me, trying with all their might to get into my skin. The glaze over the beast's eyes began to peel back steadily.

_Enough! _a voice cried out. The claws immediately stopped their digging. The beast's eyes filmed over once more. I was jerked suddenly and firmly from that horrible place, flying up and over places unknown to me, until I beheld a great face in front of me. This one I guessed, for all throughout Schonheit could identify her as easily as one can identify a goddess.

Full lips, blood red and pressed together in an imperious sneer.

Fair skin, almost blinding when it dominated one's entire vision.

Eyes a marvelous vibrant green, full of judgment, secrets, and power.

I shuddered as the great mouth in front of me spoke, the voice commanding, thunderous.

_Who art thee, Dwarfmaid? How didst thou come to tread the Astral Way?_

I remained silent, dumbfounded at the awesome power of the woman before me.

_Speak, Dwarfmaid. Dost thou know whom thou address? We are Grimhilde, Queen of Schonheit and Princess of the Wahrish Realms! Speak, or thou shall know our wrath._

The threat coaxed my voice back to me, and I opened my mouth to speak. No words came out.

_You cannot do it that way. Use your mind, not your mouth. You will find it works much better._ Her voice was less harsh, patient even. That certainly floored me. Was she…helping me? I tried again, this time following the queens's instructions.

_I apologize, Your Grace. I am not exactly well-versed in…this. I am known as Silent Sigrun, and I am but a humble gemcutter in the Greatwood._

A slender black eyebrow rose. _A humble gemcutter, you say? And yet you have attached yourself to my scry. That is not an easy thing to do, even for the most powerful of minds._

_ I'm sorry, Milady. I don't even know what a "scry" is. And this is an accident, I assure you. I'm not even sure what— _I stopped myself babbling, and the queen looked pleased as I did. When she spoke again, I realized she had completely dropped her formal diction.

_So you have some sense after all, Silent Sigrun. Now, ordinarily this intrusion would have cost you your life. I have no tolerance for trespassers in my mind. _I cringed inwardly._ But you are different. You and I both know that dwarves cannot pass through the Astral Way. Yet you have not only passed through it; you have latched onto it, seen things reserved for only a powerful few. And you have survived them. For this I will spare you. You may be useful to me. _I sighed outwardly. The queen's lips curled in a hint of smirk.

Suddenly, the queen's face began to blur. Her voice became softer and more distant as she spoke again. _Do not think our time together is over, Silent Sigrun._

_ What do you mean? How—? What's happening? _Her face faded further and further from focus, and I began to feel again: cloth, warmth, people's hands on me. Her voice faded even further.

_ In a week's time, you will receive a summons. You will answer that summons and meet me at the palace. We have much to discuss, you and I._

_ But—_

_ Enough. The Dream is almost over. Return to your family, and say nothing of this. You have seen things today you should not have. Do not burden them with this knowledge. _Though it was extremely blurry now, her face betrayed a hint of emotion with that final piece of advice. Her brow furrowed, and she lowered her eyes. On a whim, I spoke.

_I'm sorry, My Queen. All this must be a terrible burden to bear._

She gazed up at me, a look of bewilderment upon her face. She never got a chance to respond. Her face splayed out and split into several bundles of flesh and cloth around me, looks of concern on their hardy faces. Lauga held my hand, and Mother held a warm cloth to my forehead. The rest of my family was close by. I was in bed.

Goneril immediately pounced on me, squealing with delight, "Sister! You made it! Oh, Dear Gods, we thought you'd gone mad!" I squirmed in her grip, but she's always been stronger than me, so I just relaxed and her let her squeeze me until father gently pulled her off.

"Goneril was very worried about you, Sigrun," he grinned, pushing up on his glasses. "She hasn't left your side since you fell."

"Not true. I only just got here." Goneril had regained her composure. We all laughed, and I sat up slowly.

"What time is it?" I asked, trying in vain to shake out the images of what had just happened.

"Around sunset," Mother said. "We were afraid something awful had happened to you."

"What was I like?"

She turned very serious. "Well…when they brought you in you were twisting around and screaming bloody murder. It was like you were being possessed by a daemon or…some other creature. Then you just stopped, and it was like you were sleeping, but we couldn't wake you." She smiled her dimpled smile at me again, "But you're back safe with us now; that's all that matters." She took my hand and helped me up. "I've saved a piece of pie for you. The others were clambering all over themselves for it, but it's yours; I made them promise…" She chattered on, and I laughed to myself. My mother, the happiest woman in the world. Just the sort of thing a girl needs after a bone-chilling experience.

As she gabbed and gabbed, my mind drifted back to the mountain, the aberration, the feeling of dread it all gave me. I needed to process, and I had to do that alone. So I made some excuse about needing some air, and no, I would eat my pie later, Mother but thank you for asking, but of course I'd be all right, Cuch, and finally they all left. I lay back down and closed my eyes, the true weight of the past twenty-four hours drumming upon my soul like a cosmic tambor. Guilt, fear, confusion—Drizella, the monster, the queen—I couldn't help feel that all these were connected somehow, that they were pictures on a great tapestry made up of stars and stone and skin, one that told the true story of this world. I didn't have the thread to piece them together, though. So I let my thoughts in, hoping to find an answer there until I drifted off to a fitful sleep:

—What have you done, Silent Sigrun?—

_I have betrayed the Queen of Schonheit._

—Why does this matter? The queen is an evil sorceress. Everyone knows so.—

_Sorceress or no, I have walked the Astral Way. I have seen the sacred room where the queen stores her thoughts. I have gazed upon true evil, and it is by her hand that I live to tell of it. I owe her my life, whether she means good or ill._

—How will you face her, traitor (traitor)?—

_I will be silent (silent, silent)._

—Do you not think she will guess your bluff?—

_I cannot say. Either way, I cannot speak._

—Why, oh Silent Sigrun? Why will you not speak?—

A thought I didn't fully understand fluttered into my mind, one that haunts me to this day.

_Because they took my voice._


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read the story so far, especially Scoobycool9 and Luckycool9, Curse You Perry the Platypus for your kind words of support. What a confidence booster they were. I'm not sure how long this every other day thing will last, but I'll be writing all the same. Again, thanks).

Chapter 3

Summons

The summons came at the most inconvenient time. Though I had awoken the next day in strange anticipation of my court date, it fizzled out quickly as the first few days came and went. At the mines, Goneril had "accidentally" thrown her pick through a wall (she was trying to hit a bat) and discovered another network of caves, caves where the foreman immediately put us to work. Almost all of my time was spent in the examining room, separating the good rocks from the bad and hoping I wouldn't explode from the massive amounts of excitement. The drudgery of the diamond mine stamped out any and all ideas of grand adventure, even smacked the fear of my crime being discovered straight out of my mind.

There were a few good things about all this, however, the first of which being that the monotony of the work gave me lots of time to think. I asked myself several good questions, though my conclusions were never exactly concrete. Why did I choose to help Drizella? _Because they took my voice._ How would I keep it a secret from the queen? _I will be silent (silent). _How did I even meet the queen in the first place; and in that vein, what was that vision, and why was the queen watching that monster? _Hold a second, Sigrun._ Why was I so convinced they were connected? _It is written. It is written._

I told you I didn't come to any decisive conclusions.

As the week in the mine kept up, even these queries dissipated into wisps of swift thought. These events seemed very insignificant and very far away. I began to think that perhaps I had made up some elaborate daydream of it all, played adventurer and prophetess like I did with my sisters in childhood. For the real world was at hand now, and the real world is a very monotone sort of place with very monotone happenings.

I would often listen in on the old biddies around me gossiping as they tossed cracked gems over their shoulders and hunched over their tables, whispering in hushed, giddy tones. They were always content to let me do this, chirping things like "Oh, look at her. Sigrun's too prim to talk about folks behind their backs" or "Oh, we're excluding her! How cruel of us!" It wasn't particularly enjoyable, but they meant well, and I learned a great deal of news from them.

Their talk was serious those days, which was funny because they weren't the sort of women one takes seriously. But from the way they gabbed, they believed themselves to be couriers of some long-lost god, whispering of his good deeds to avoid claims of heresy.

"They sent a messenger to the village last night. I was there, I was. Heard the woman myself. Announced in the square that the queen had declared regency."

"What of the princess?"

"Queen says she's continued the 'princess's courtly education', whatever that means, and will 'ascend her to the throne when her bearing permits it'."

"Oh…Do you think she's schooling her in them black arts of hers?"

"Wouldn't surprise me. That bat has a few nasty tricks up her sleeve, if you ask me. Why, I heard she's been neg..nego..negotiatin' with them Minuits. Peace talks and such."

"The nerve! They go an' kill 'er 'usband and she talks nice with 'em! I heard when the king died, she didn't even show one sign of grief. Didn't even 'old a public funeral for him."

"Now, now…Don't be cruel. She's your queen, and don't you forget it."

"I can say as I damn well please. What does she want with little old me? She probably cares less about us back here than the king did."

"Oooh…be careful. They say she's got a mirror what can look anywhere in the world, anytime. And they say she goes about in disguise too, sneakin' to the homes of those who wrong her, and murdering 'em in their sleep."

"Oh, them's just stories. Don't believe everything you 'ear."

Despite the ludicrous speculation and sad attempts at good character, the crones' jabbering kept me grounded. Every time someone would say the word "queen" or "Minuit" or something else of that nature, I felt a fire in my heart for a split-second. The memories would flood my spirit for a split-second and then drift back into the humid air of the mines. Still, this was enough to make me realize the reality of my situation: all this would be gone soon.

It was very difficult not to tell my family about anything. I thought about mentioning my summons, but I never did. I knew it would happen, and when it did, what could they do stop it? I knew I was acting sullen and broody the entire time, but as I didn't really know how to stop it without feeling forced, I just let it happen. Everyone noticed, of course, especially Cuchulainn (he was asking after my wellbeing almost hourly), but I managed to stave them off with stories of heat and illness and overwork. No one really questioned that because they all were facing the same issues. We were too exhausted even to talk in the den before dinner.

So that was the rest of the week, and then came Friday. With the political turmoil and the extra work and my own shadows of doubt and frustration, I had completely forgotten that Friday was the Feast of Lady Aphrodite. One of the twelve holy weekends in the Olympian calendar, this particular holiday is a favorite of man and dwarf alike. It is a massive celebration that goes for three days, Friday to Sunday. Everyone stops work and participates in three ceremonies: the vespers, the initiative, and finally the bacchanal. While most people I know typically love the romping, wine and loud music of the bacchanal, the vespers has always been my favorite.

It happens Sunday night—the clerics dress in white gowns and do their hair up in ceremonial braids, painting their faces green and gold and purest white in recognition of the goddess. These holy women walk along the paths of the Greatwood as the sky darkens, chanting in an ancient tongue, their voices mostly in unison, save for a contralto who holds a steady drone beneath the lilting melody of the others. This music is otherworldly and mystifying, and I never have understood how such plain creatures as dwarves can create such esoteric art. They swing incense and burn candles in front of them, stopping from door to door. All come, for the dwarves are very religious, and even those who aren't are drawn in by the haunting scene. One by one, the clerics lead the entire dwarven settlement up the slopes of Mount Wodin. And at its peak, they deliver them one by one into another world entirely.

The ceremony that Friday night was one of the best I had ever witnessed. As I stood in the great circle and the clerics passionately recited the liturgy, the words they said took new meaning, and I was transfixed in them, pouring the shape of my body in between the dashes and lines so that I danced a dance of wonder and ecstasy, a dance too sacred for music. The clerics would call, the rest of us would respond, and with each phrase uttered the night sky grew brighter, the hilltop more grandiose, and everything was connected.

"The goddess does not love as we do. She does not stop her gaze upon the beauty of youth and pleasure. Instead, she gazes upon what lies within each of us. She loves all things as her own paramours, her own parents and children. Give thanks this day, for she has loved us all the same."

_We give thanks, O Great Goddess, for the blessings of your mercy._

"The goddess stays the hand of her lover Ares. When he ravages the land, she picks the people up from the ashes and whispers words of life into their ears. Give thanks this day, for she has spared us from the ruin of war."

_We give thanks, O Great Goddess, for the blessings of your peace._

"The goddess does not envy…"

"The goddess does not mar…"

"The goddess is no mere slattern…"

Eventually, the words almost stopped sounding in my head altogether. I became lost to the timbre of the women's voices, exuberant and profound. I noticed women kneeling, lifting their arms to the heavens and men openly in tears, basking in the promise that all would be well in the triumphant arms of Aphrodite, who loves all beings as her own. Though I had never had an experience of such ecstasy, I greatly enjoyed watching them, for I have always thought the afterglow of rapture is just as pertinent as the joy itself. I stood there now, basking in it, inwardly smiling at the great amount of joy concentrated in so small a place.

I looked at Lauga, peacefully reclining on the ground, her eyes closed in contentment.

_Rest, Lauga._

I looked at Father, his head bowed and glasses drooping, trying so hard not to mince the words of this prayer (he so often did that.)

_Be at peace, Domnall._

I looked at Mother cradling a sleeping Kitta, beaming at the scene around her.

_Smile, Mother. Always smile._

I looked at Goneril, trying so hard to pretend she hated the whole affair. But I also saw the tear trickling down her cheek and the heaving in her breath.

_Be free, Goneril. Be brave._

And lastly I looked at Cuchulainn, my very best friend in all the world. He tried so very hard to stifle his coughs for the sake of those around him, but still some cantankerous old ladies scoffed at him.

_Live, Cuch. Please, for the love of the Goddess, be healed._

I gazed upon them all at once, and suddenly my consciousness was filled by one word: _Now._

The voice was not my own, and I knew immediately what it required of me. I tried to ignore its urging and stay, but the spell was broken. I only saw some people chanting. _NOW! _It rasped again, striking a chord in my stomach and turning my hands feet jittery. I gazed upon my family, hoping for all the world that I would be able to see them again.

_NOW!_

I turned from the circle and began making my way toward the trail. As I turned to go, Cuchulainn glanced at me, a question in his eyes. The hardest thing I had ever done was not answering it. I lowered my gaze and took off, letting my weight and emotion and all the energy I had been hiding the past week propel me westward, toward the palace, toward the ocean, toward whatever fate awaited me.

The summons had come at the most inconvenient time, but I answered it with the fervor of a madwoman.


End file.
